After he had removed my brassiere, he looked at my exposed charms thoroughly. He conducted the examination slowly, and leisurely, making only a slight pretense at its being medical. After he had felt the muscles of my arms and inspected the soft texture of my skin, he turned his attention to my step-ins.
“I'm afraid we shall have to take these off you, too, my dear,” he said, catching his forefinger under the elastic at the waist of them. “This is once when you will have your panties taken down when it will not be for a whipping. That is, you will not be given a whipping if you continue to be a well-behaved girl. Of course, if you aren't, then I shall have to borrow your father's strap and spank you until you are ready to behave.”
Knowing it was not an idle threat, and that Father would willingly go after the strap to whip me, and the inspection of me would go on after I had been punished anyway, I remained still as he slipped the step-ins down from my hips and let them fall to my ankles.
“Just step out of them, my dear, and lie here on my knees,” he directed.
He seated himself and gestured for me to lie face downward across his lap. Only too anxious to hide my shamed face from his gaze, I willingly assumed the ignoble pose over his knees. I was almost dying of shame and had to fight the impulse to cry, because I had nothing on before this man except my stockings, rolled at the tops over elastic garters, and my shoes. But my parents said not a word, and I knew with despair and fear as well as my supreme embarrassment that they approved whatever he did, so it was useless for me to plead my modesty.